


Of Cold and Love

by We_deserve_rainbows



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Danatole, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Gay Russians, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, No Beta read we die like men, Period-Typical Homophobia, anatole is dramatic, hélène is the best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 21:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17947142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/We_deserve_rainbows/pseuds/We_deserve_rainbows
Summary: Dolokhov knew how he felt towards Anatole was not acceptable. The fluttering in his stomach when Anatole smiled at him, when he fluttered his long eyelashes over his sharp, sparkling eyes.





	1. In which Dolokhov is in love

**Author's Note:**

> Some Danatole for y’all <3

Dolokhov knew how he felt towards Anatole was not acceptable. The fluttering in his stomach when Anatole smiled at him, when he fluttered his long eyelashes over his sharp, sparkling eyes. The anger deep in his soul when Anatole flirted with the beautiful women at the club. The feeling of absolute giddiness when Anatole looks at Dolokhov with admiration and affection.

Shit, he might be in love with Anatole. The thought of that frightened him more than that damned war could ever hope to. 

He was staying in their manor for the time being because he had nowhere else to go. The Kuragins had been gracious enough to let him stay with them, Dolokhov was sure Anatole convinced Hélène to let him stay with them. Hélène doesn’t normally to do anything that doesn’t benefit her so Dolokhov is at a loss as to how she was convinced by Anatole.

“Fedya, come here please,” Anatole called as he dramatically sauntered into the parlor where Dolokhov was reading a book that was on one of the Kuragins many bookshelves.

“Why don’t you come over here and say what you need to,” Dolokhov responded with bemusement in his voice. He set down his book as Anatole theatrically draped himself over Dolokhov and the chair he was sitting on. 

“Fedya, will you go to the club with me and Hélène?” Anatole questioned as he stared up at Dolokhov.

“Of course I will Anatole, you know I will,” he stated. He picked up Anatole out of his lap and set him down on the sofa. He picked up his book and sat down on a different chair and tried very hard to keep a tinge of pink off of his cheeks.

“Ok Fedya,” Anatole said brightly, “I can’t wait,” as he strut out of the room with a satisfied smile. 

Dolokhov buried his face in his hands as a huge grin spread across his face and he went pink. God this was not good, no one could know how much he loves that man. Fedya knew what could happen if anyone were to discover his feelings. He had seen his fair share of men shot in the army because the wrong person saw them engaging in certain activities. 

He marked his page and got up to get ready. He needed to look his best, after all, he had a reputation to uphold.

“Anatole, are you ready to go?” Hélène called from the bottom of the staircase. She was wearing a gorgeous dress, she never had any trouble obtaining suitors. Her figure made sure of that.

“Yes Hélène, lets go,” he announced, flaunting down the stairs in his suit. The sight of Anatole took Dolokhov’s breath away, he was beautiful. He forced his gaze off of Anatole and let Hélène take his arm as they walked out of the house. 

The club was packed when they got there, they were kept warm by each other, protected from the harsh Russian winter outside. Dolokhov went straight for the bar as soon as he stepped into the club.

“Vodka please,” Dolokhov gruffly requested. The bartender got him his drink and he watched Anatole walk towards a group of young women with a jaunty step. He tilted his head back and drank when he saw Anatole joyfully flirting with a girl in a blue dress. 

He only noticed Hélène sitting next to him when she spoke, “I am not blind Fedya, I see the way you look at my brother,” she swirled her drink and looked forward.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dolokhov stiffly replied, “Anatole is my friend, nothing more,”  
He glanced at Hélène and she was looking at him with disbelief.

“Believe me, I have no qualms with you being attracted to men,” she laughed at the panic draining from his face, “My brother is one who enjoys pleasure, he doesn’t really care who from,” Hélène says casually, as if discussing the weather and not something extremely illegal, “and he certainly has no prejudices against receiving it from beautiful men,” Hélène laughs. Dolokhov stares at her with shock in his eyes as she starts to walk away. 

“Thank you Hélène, that information is… surprising,” Dolokhov stammers with red spreading across his face. Dolokhov looked back to Anatole, he knew he had to act, if he knew Anatole was at least somewhat like him.


	2. In which conversations are had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluffy fluff for yall!

“Fedya!” Anatole shouted at Dolokhov, “come over here,” Dolokhov rolled his eyes and tossed back the rest of his vodka. Anatole was gesturing recklessly for Dolokhov to sit with him.

“Fedya, Hélène has just spoken with me and I need to talk to you,” Anatole explained. He grabbed Dolokhovs arm and started to tug Dolokhov to the door. Dolokhov glared at Hélène with wide eyes, he saw her look over from some poor girl she was chatting up and laugh.

They stood in the alleyway outside the club, Anatole pacing back and forth in front of Dolokhov, “Anatole what is this about?” Dolokhov questioned cautiously. He looked down at Anatole who was fidgety and running his hands through his hair. “Anatole, what did Hélène speak to you about? You are acting odd!” 

“She spoke to me of you Fedya!” Anatole hurriedly confessed, “She told me of your… unconventional taste in partners, and I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me?” Anatole blurted and then screwed his eyes shut.

Dolokhov gently took his face in his hands as Anatole slowly opened his eyes to gaze in Dolokhovs deep eyes that were reminiscent of whiskey in the sun, “Of course I will dear Anatole, but where would we even go? We couldn’t be seen together on a date, no one is going to allow capital crimes to go unpunished. Plus you would never live down going out with an assassin,” Dolokhov teased fondly.

Anatole giggled and took Dolokhovs hands in his and softly spoke, “Oh my dear, we will dine in my house tomorrow night, I cannot wait,” Anatole started leading Dolokhov back into the club by their joined hands.

Anatole released his hands before they went into the club but they still walked near each other as they went to gather Hélène. 

“Hélène say goodbye to your companion, we must take our leave.” Anatole said to Hélène, who was still flirting with a young woman.

“Goodbye Natalie, you beautiful thing, I hope to see you again,” Hélène teased as she walked away. Natasha turned pink and waved to Hélène as she walked away.

“Well you two seem rather close,” Hélène said, smirking as they got into the troika, “did my prying do some good?” the whip cracked as they jolted forward, Anatole buried his face in his hands and Dolokhov crossed his arms across his chest and looked away. “I’ll take that as a firm yes,” she smugly smiled. 

When they got back to the Kuragin manor it was well past dark and it was so cold it stung your lungs when you breathed in. Anatole had fallen asleep on the and neither Dolokhov nor Hélène has the heart to wake him so Dolokhov volunteered to carry him up to his bedroom. He took the sleeping blonde gently in his arms, he was strikingly slender, almost worryingly so, however Dolokhov decided to file that thought away for another time. He climbed the stairs and walked down the many hallways to Anatoles room all the while admiring the sleeping man in his arms.

He set Anatole down in his lush bed and pulled the covers up to his neck. “Goodnight ‘Toly, love you,” Dolokhov whispered lovingly before striding softly out of the room. He returned to his own room to retire for the night. That night he dreamed of marriage, it was a wedding, his wedding but his partner was also in a suit, this was odd. The venue also happened to be on top of a forest but that wasn’t important to Dolokhov, what was important was the face of his spouse, he got a good look at them for the first time and was surprised to see that it was Anatole. He woke up after that and mused for a bit about the foolishness of it all, a marriage between two men being legal, not in a thousand years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the last one I think. Leave a comment if ya like, constructive criticism is always welcome!


	3. In which a date happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok so pelmeni is like a Russian ravioli.

Dolokhov awoke the next morning to hear Hélène having a conversation with Anatole. 

“But Hélène,” Anatole exclaimed, “what if he doesn’t actually like me, and he just thinks he does because he has known me for years,” Anatole sounded like he was pacing. Dolokhov wanted nothing more than to go to him and hold him in his arms to comfort the anxious man.

“Don’t be silly Anatole,” Hélène sighed, “I beg you to believe me brother, Fyodor Dolokhov is just as in love with you as you are with him!” Hélène sounded like she wanted to kill Anatole. “You need to distract yourself Anatole,” 

Dolokhov got up from his bed and dressed quickly as to go and speak with Hélène. He heard Anatole walk up the stairs and when he came into view he looked acutely distraught. Anatole saw him and gave him a small but genuine smile before hurrying into his room. Dolokhov meandered downstairs slightly agitated but he still needed to speak with Hélène.

Hélène was sitting in their drawing room reading a novel. “Anatole I swear,” Hélène started before she looked up and saw Dolokhov standing awkwardly standing in the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Oh hello Fedya,” Hélène smiles, relieved that it wasn’t Anatole with his endless array of worries. 

“Hello Hélène, I was wondering if you could help me cook the meal that Anatole and I are going to eat tonight?” Dolokhov asked nervously, “I am not the greatest chef,” he laughed.

“It would be my pleasure,” Hélène smirked, “what would you like to make?” Hélène asked. While Dolokhov struggled to name a meal to make Hélène strolled to the lavish kitchen of the Kuragin household and gathered a large book filled with recipes. She opened the thick book and started flipping through the pages, Dolokhov looking over her shoulder. “No, not that, he wouldn’t like that,” Hélène muttered as she scanned the pages, “ ah, pelmeni, this recipe is delicious and it shouldn’t be that difficult to make, but if you want them by five o’clock we have to start preparing now,” 

“Ok, I love pelmeni, my mother used to make it for me” Dolokhov reminisced, “what to I need to do?” Dolokhov said, clearly happy to have some sort of direction.

“You prepare the kitchen, I’ll go out and collect the ingredients we will need at the market,” Hélène explained, “I’ll meet you back here in two hours,” she said as she grabbed her fur coat and walked out of the house. Dolokhov started reading the recipe. He got out the bowls and kitchen utensils that they would need. He got the whisk out to make the dough and the skillet for the filling, along with some other things.

When Hélène got back with the ingredients Dolokhov had got the kitchen prepared and was rereading the recipe. Hélène wordlessly set the ingredients on the counter and raised a curious eyebrow at Dolokhov. 

“What? I want to be prepared,” he defended, “Why do you care anyway?” He questioned while setting out the elements of the meal. 

“Oh no reason,” Hélène grinned slyly, “it’s just amusing how in love with my brother you are,” she said, crossing her arms at when Dolokhovs eyes widened in embarrassment.

“Ha ha Hélène,” Dolokhov said while he scratched his neck and looked away from Hélène. “can we please get started?” Dolokhov asked, his voice raised about two octaves.

“Ok Fedya,” Hélène laughed, “you make the dough and I’ll make the filling,” she said, grabbing the ingredients she needed. Dolokhov retrieved the eggs and the cream and the other ingredients for pelmeni dough. They worked in silence for a while and the only sound was a tune that Hélène was almost inaudibly humming.

“Hélène, I’m done,” Dolokhov quietly said because he was accustomed to the quiet rhythm they had.

“Ok, I’m almost done,” Hélène said as she added the last ingredient and vigorously whisk it in. “Cut out a circle and put a spoonful of the filling in it,” she said and demonstrated for Dolokhov, “then twist the top and put it on the tray,” she finished as she put the perfected pelmeni on the tray. They shaped many more pelmeni before they had a good amount.

After they were done they put the pelmeni into the snow outside to freeze. Dolokhov sat in silence contemplating why Anatole would think that he didn’t like him. He had been in love with Anatole for a truly long time and he honestly wasn’t sure if he could fall out of love at this point. He glanced over at Hélène and briefly wondered if she had ever been in love. She was married but she obviously didn’t love Pierre, she didn’t seem like the kind of person that would be able to love another, but then again, neither did Dolokhov. 

After a while of comfortable silence Hélène brought the pelmeni inside and told Dolokhov to get a table set up because she could handle boiling a few balls of dough. He shuffled to their dining room and stood dumbly for a few minutes trying to figure out how to set up for a romantic dinner. The Kuragins had a vase of flowers always out in the front room (for what Dolokhov had no clue) dove separated a red carnation and placed it in a simple vase. He had no idea what else to do so he lit a candle and arranged it in the center of the table with the flower and called it good. 

When he went back in the kitchen Hélène was putting the cooked pelmeni on to two plates, “Dolokhov, go get Anatole! I’ll set the table,” Hélène said urgently teasing Dolokhov, “don’t worry mon cher, he will love it,” she said while she went into the dining room with the plates.

Dolokhov walked up to Anatoles room, he felt giddy to be finally on an actual date with Anatole. He knocked and said, “Anatole, mon amour, can you come downstairs with me?”

Anatole opened the door with a massive smile on his face, “Of course dear Fedya,” he giggled happily, he took Dolokhovs hand in his own and beamed as Dolokhov lead him down the stairs. They entered the dining room and Anatole gasped when he saw what Dolokhov had done for him, “Dolly, this is amazing, you’re the best,” Anatole embraced Dolokhov and went to sit down. Dolokhov sat across from him and smiled as they begin to eat. They chatted and laughed as they ate, Dolokhov looked into Anatoles smiling blue sparkling eyes and felt a wave of emotions well up inside him. 

When they had finished their meal and drank a considerable amount of vodka they stood to go. Anatole stumbled into Dolokhov and laughed as Dolokhov stumbled into a chair. Because of Anatoles drunken clumsiness he was effectively sitting on Dolokhovs lap. He looked shocked for a moment before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Dolokhovs like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dolokhov waited only a moment before he kissed Anatole back. God, he loved this boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! Im happy with it overall.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is always welcome!


End file.
